


The Ghost of You

by queensupremes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, I'm a sobbing mess and I'm sorry, The relationships aren't prominent just mostly implied, post 3x23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queensupremes/pseuds/queensupremes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Allison was... god, she was everything. She was incredible, she was talented, she was strong... she was so strong. So much has happened in the last year that I can't even wrap my head around it, and she came out on top. She went out swinging. She was a warrior -- Allison is a warrior. She's a leader. I know she'll lead me in the right direction for the rest of my life."</p>
<p>*In other words, I am a mess.*</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ghost of You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very emotional and just needed to get these feelings out somehow. My apologies if it gets a bit convoluted, as this hasn't been proof-read thoroughly and was partially written through my tears. I tried to give it a happy ending because I need a happy ending. It might be cheesy, for which, I'm not sorry.

The sun seemed to shine brighter than it usually did on the day of the funeral. For a moment, Scott thought it was a bit ironic.  _Isn't it supposed to be cloudy on days like this?_ he thought, but he thought better of it. He figured she would have wanted sunshine. He figured it was Allison making her presence known, smiling down on them. On him.

"How are you feeling?" Melissa asked him when she crept into his room that morning. She wasn't surprised to see him up, sitting on the roof outside his window.

"Like hell," he croaked out, pinching the bridge of his nose and sniffing.

Melissa crawled out of the window, sitting next to her son. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she said, taking his hand and covering it with hers. "I still can't believe it... I can't even imagine how you feel."

Scott looked at her, his face the very portrait of pure grief. Sunken eyes rubbed raw and red, disheveled hair, stubble along his jaw. She's seen the look before. Seen it on Scott, seen it on Stiles, seen it on the sheriff. Seen it on herself. Seen it more times than she would have liked in the last few weeks.

"Are you sure you can do this?" she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. "You don't have to speak if you can't."

Scott shook his head, taking a deep breath. "You said girls loved words. You said that the night I-I told her..." his words caught in his throat, but Melissa understood. "I have to do it," he finished, clearing his throat.

She let go of his hand and patted his shoulder, getting up to crawl back through the window. "Get cleaned up then, kiddo." 

It was the first time he'd worn his tux since the winter formal. His mother laid it out for him on his bed while he showered, and the mere sight of it stopped him dead in his tracks. Melissa had taken it to a tailor since then so it wasn't exactly the same, but the sentiment remained. Blame it on his lack of sleep in the last week, blame on his full-blown guilt; just touching the jacket jolted him back into that red-tinted gymnasium, dancing with her. His lips on hers and her innocent, "Why did you do that?" and the first time he ever uttered those three little words. "Because _I love you_."

He put the tux on slowly, biting back tears. Just as he finished with the laces on his dress shoes, Isaac stood at the doorway to his bedroom in the same tux he'd worn when he helped the Argent's with Silver Finger. They couldn't do much but nod at each other. Isaac looked like he hadn't slept in weeks and Scott wasn't any different.

"Well, we should probably get going, boys," Melissa said softly as she came in next to Isaac. "You both look very handsome."

It was the first time Isaac had been in the cemetery since Boyd's funeral. He watched from a far with Derek and Cora as his family grieved, and they paid their respects soon after they'd left. He'd be right up front for Allison, despite his need to feed his denial. He'd be the man she made him feel like, owning up to his emotions and putting on a brave face. For her.

Allison's father gave the eulogy, praising his daughter for the strength she exuded and the many lives that she touched.  

"I've lost a sister and I've lost a wife," he said in his closing statements. "But the loss of my only daughter bears more weight than I ever imagined, and she was all that I had left. But I am so proud of the person that she became - the woman that she became. The leader that she'd always been. I miss her every second."

He kept it short, allotting enough time for the rest of the pack to say their parts. Lydia went after him, recounting her friendship with Allison from the beginning. Scott stood close to the podium in support, Stiles and Kira to his side. His cheeks were raw, but so were everyone else's.

"She was my best friend through everything. My best friend, my sister... my protector. I would give anything to have her back," she paused, taking a shaky breath before looking up into the sky. "I love you, I miss you."

As Lydia's words came to an end, Scott's hands began to tremble. He tried in vain to put his hands in his pockets to try to stop it but it didn't do much. Kira laid a hand on his forearm just as Lydia finished, and his trembles had subdued enough for him to hug Lydia tightly before taking the podium. The intakes of breath from the crowd were loud in his ear as they braced themselves, knowing his connection to her.

With a deep breath, he pulled out crumpled pieces of paper and began to read from them.

"I think I knew I loved her when she came to the vet's in the pouring rain. She uh, she hit a dog on accident and brought it in and she was soaking wet and crying so I gave her a shirt. I guess that's how it all started. That was when I asked her out," he smiled fondly, sadly. "Allison had this like, aura around her. She was almost like an angel on Earth. I mean, her smile could literally light up all of Times Square. She was sunshine. But she was so much more than that, so much more than her looks. She was good. She was a good person - one of the best people I've ever known. It's impossible not to love her. That's never going to change."

He'd skipped over scribbles and the parts that he couldn't read due to the tear smudges and flipped the page, looking up to make eye contact with Allison's father. He nodded, acknowledging him.

"We went through a lot together. We watched each other evolve into different people but we always stayed the same with one another. We always loved each other. Protected each other," _But obviously I didn't protect her enough, otherwise we wouldn't be here,_ he wanted to say, but he stopped himself. "I wish I could have protected her more."

His fingers had crumpled at the edge of his papers by now, and he took a moment to smooth them out on the podium before pushing on.

"Allison was... god, she was everything. She was incredible, she was talented, she was strong... she was so strong. So much has happened in the last year that I can't even wrap my head around it, and she came out on top. She went out swinging. She was a warrior -- Allison is a warrior. She's a leader. I know she'll lead me in the right direction for the rest of my life."

Scott looked up at the sky, briefly closing his eyes and smiling at the warmth on his face. "I know she's here now. I just hope that I can make her proud."

\---

Some nights are easier than others. He drifts off after reluctantly finishing his homework and gets through the night just fine, even if he does dream about her laying by his side, curled into his warmth like she used to. Other nights, he wakes up screaming her name. His mother storms into his bedroom, Isaac right behind her. She throws her arms around him, shushing him and rubbing his arms.

"It's okay, it's okay," she says, but it isn't and it hasn't been for three months.

And Isaac doesn't say a word as he watches from the doorway, a sullen look on his face. He gets the nightmares, too. Blames himself for her death like they all do. But he doesn't say anything to Scott; Scott needs to grieve and so does he. They're living together like brothers, not speaking to each other like strangers.

Some nights, neither of them sleep. Isaac will see Scott jumping off the roof and running. He doesn't follow him, doesn't know where he's going but he watches out the window until he comes back at dawn.

School isn't much better than home. There's a memorial on the wall of the main hallway to commemorate the fallen students; Boyd and Erica, Allison and the warrior sacrifice. Lydia takes to decorating Allison's old locker weekly. Sticky notes and flowers are taped to the metal, cards and pictures all over. The first time Scott saw it, his eyes watered when he taped a pen by the padlock. 

Sometimes he sits at the foot of her locker when everyone else is in class. If he gets close enough, he can still smell her and it makes him feel better, like she's there. Isaac knows because he does it, too.

Students look at them like they're fragile. Everyone looks at Lydia like she'll crumble if she blinks too hard. Everyone looks at Scott as if he's a widower still recovering from the loss. No one blames him, not really. It wasn't like they hid their relationship from anyone in school. It was Isaac who got the strangest looks - looks of concern for being associated with her but not much else. If only they knew. Teachers look at all of them with pity. Three months later and they're still safe to turn in way-past-due papers and assignments and retake any tests they need.

Of them all, Lydia is the most resilient. She cried for her best friend and screamed and screamed for her, begged her to come back. She'd resurrected before, why not try again? The first month, people started to believe that she'd gone mad. The librarian questioned her motives for checking out so many books on mythology and witchcraft. She thought surely the girl was forming a cult of sorts, but Lydia Martin was on a quest to bring her friend back. They all tried to help her, even Derek came to lend a hand, but they tried and tried to no avail.

Now she seems to be the one keeping everyone intact. As she attempts to explore her powers as a banshee, she's more involved with the pack than ever, though the action lately has been limited to arguments over food or who's paying for what. Still, she feels as if she belongs. This is her pack, too. Her friends, her family, her protectors; the ones she can trust with her life. They'd all taken to grieving differently, but it wasn't lost on anyone that Lydia, Isaac, and Scott had it the worst. The only difference was, Isaac kept quiet about his grief.

He hadn't spoken to Scott since the funeral, nothing more than answers to yes or no questions and the occasional 'sup' nod. Isaac was sure that Scott blamed him entirely; had she not shot that arrow to protect him, it would have been him instead of her, and he wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock and let it happen. He'd already lost a mother, lost a brother, lost a father, and now a girlfriend - whatever they were to each other - so what was another life lost?

It wasn't until Stiles suggested a pack movie night to bring everyone back together that Isaac spoke to Scott. Really spoke to Scott. From his bedroom at the end of the hall, he could hear the others in the living room chatting, could hear the curious "Where's Isaac?" questions. He heard Scott mutter a "Hold on," and braced himself as he heard him bound up the stairs. 

"Isaac?" Scott rapped his fingers on the door before opening it himself, entering slowly. His eyes widened at what he saw. "Dude, what the hell?"

Shreds of pillow stuffing and clothes were strewn  all over the room, as were the sheets. If Scott hadn't known any better, he'd of thought Isaac was robbed. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just-" Isaac stood up, trying to explain. "I'm just mourning, I guess." Mourning, steaming, angry and confused at everything and nothing in particular. 

"I'll buy your mom new pillows and stuff," he said flatly.

Scott shook his head, running a hand over his hair. "A-Are you alright, man?"

Obviously he wasn't, but he was at a loss for words.

"No, it's just - I'm pissed and I'm sick of-of trying to make sense of all of the shit that's happened," he said, rambling off quickly. "And I can't stand having to live here, knowing what you think of me and knowing that you will always trump me."

"What? What are you talking about? You don't want to live here anymore?" Scott, clearly confused, raised his eyebrows. He'd never seen Isaac like this, not directed towards him.

"No, that's not it. I want to live here, Scott, but I know you blame me. I know you blame me for-for Allison. It's my fault. It's my fault and I can't fix it... I don't know how to fix it." His hand went up to clench his curls before sitting at the edge of his bed. Scott remained standing. "I can't bring her back."

"Isaac, I don't... I don't blame you for anything," Scott explained. "It's none of our fault. She died by honoring her code. Remember? Protect those who cannot protect themselves. She was protecting you, Isaac. She's... She's your hero. There's nothing you need to fix."

He hoped he understood. Scott hadn't spoken to him because he didn't know what to say. His first love, Isaac's last relationship. What was there to say?

"Well, maybe some pillow cases," Isaac pointed out. He was relieved, to say the least, about what Scott had said.  Allison saved him; his hero, his guardian. The two chuckled, the first time in a long time for either of them. 

"Worry about that later. Pack's having a movie night-"

"Am I invited?"

"Are you in the pack?"

"Well, if you'll have me." Isaac stood, extending a hand to his alpha. Scott took it in an agreement handshake, nodding.

"Come on, then. Stiles brought like twenty volumes of Star Wars," Scott said as he headed towards the door.

"They're six episodes, Scotty!" Stiles hollered from the living room. 

They headed back downstairs, and Isaac was greeted by the rest of the crew with open arms. Just as Scott went to dim the lights, Kira spoke up.

"Um, can I say something first?" She even raised her hand, and Scott smiled.

"Go for it."

She turned around so that she was facing everyone in the living room and pulled out what looked to be a stack of clothes from her tote bag.

"Look, I know I haven't been here that long and I don't really have the strongest connection to you guys like... like Allison did but, I thought it would be cool to commemorate her," she said, taking a shirt from the stack and holding it up. "So I had these shirts made... I don't know if you'd want to wear them but..."

She held up a white t-shirt, the front of it with an emblem on the left side. A bow curving the side of a full moon, a Katana crossing the bow where an arrow would lay. The date of Allison's death and the words 'For Allison,' circled the emblem in small characters. The room was quiet, taking it in; Kira turned the shirt around, showing the back. A bigger version of the emblem took up the middle in an overlay, with Allison's code printed over it. Lydia was the first one to smile. 

"You made these for us?" she asked, reaching for it. Kira handed it to her, nodding.

"It's the least I could do after everything that's happened. My mom and all..." she sighed.

"I think it's great," Stiles stated, reaching for a shirt as Lydia had. "We're like VIPs in an exclusive club."

"Pack," Scott pointedly corrected. "We're a pack."

"Yeah, complete with matching shirts."

"I think she'd like them," Isaac spoke up, and Lydia handed him a shirt for himself. "Allison, I mean. I think she'd like them."

With that, Scott dimmed the lights and Stiles started the movie. All of them wore their shirts over their original clothing, and Scott leaned against the couch from the floor next to Kira.

"They're great, really." He whispered to her, taking her hand.

It was the first time he'd held her hand since before the incident, and he squeezed. Part of him wondered if this was Allison, pointing him in the right direction. Pointing him towards happiness, pointing him out of the hole he'd dug himself into in missing her. And just when he'd begun to have his doubts, a warmth filled his chest, and he knew.


End file.
